“You’re here early today,” Jackie remarks, setting the kettle on to boil. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course. And in such stunning duds.” Jackie says it jauntily, winking on the last word, but her cheeks are rather pink.
“I have some things to do for Martha later today. She’s off having the baby,” Claire says. She presses her hands to her thighs—the texture of corduroy is strange, as is the shape of her own legs. “She’ll be at the hospital for a few days.”
“That’s nice of you,” Jackie says. She keeps glancing at Claire as she lays out mugs and teabags, and the warmth of her attention is better than a hot bath.
“It means I don’t have to worry about her peeping through the curtains every time I leave my house.”
“Now it’s just dear Mr.Davis that you need to worry about,” Jackie says. There’s a hint of bitterness to it that Claire finds herself sharing.
“Oh, Mr.Davis can stuff it,” Claire huffs.
Jackie laughs abruptly. She looks shocked by Claire’s candor, and Claire is honestly rather surprised at herself. Though these kinds of thoughts have been building up in her for some time, it’s not often that she voices it. The freedom of it loosens something in her chest.
“Claire, what was your maiden name again?” Jackie asks, suddenly demanding as she slides into the booth across from Claire. “Not your husband’s name. Your real name. Anita said it when we visited her shop.”
“When I married, my name was Fields,” Claire says. It feels unfamiliar on her tongue. “Claire Fields.”
“Claire Fields,” Jackie says. Her mouth forms the name slowly, smiling around it as if she’s tasting it and finding it satisfying. “I like that. It’s nice to meet you, Claire Fields.”
Jackie holds out her hand. It’s oddly reminiscent of their first meeting, but Claire feels as if an entirely different person is shaking Jackie’s hand this time. Being Jackie’s friend has shifted something that Claire isn’t sure she ever wants to shift back.
Their hands don’t part until the kettle whistles.
Jackie jumps up, taking it off the burner with a too-quick motion. She grabs the kettle a bit too far down on the handle, and hisses as she drops it back onto the burner. “Ah! Damn.”
Claire is out of her seat in a blink. She grabs Jackie’s hand, examining the burn—a thin red strip across the palm of her hand, but it doesn’t look like it will blister. “Careful! Are you all right?”
Jackie pulls her hand back abruptly. “I’m fine. I forgot my brain today. Don’t worry about me.” Jackie’s laugh is a little strained. She must be hurt, and not want to show it—she busies herself with pouring tea.
“You should put something on it, at least,” Claire says. She leans against the counter, and folds her arms across her chest.
Jackie swears again as she pours hot water all over the countertop.
“Shit. Goddamn, fucking—kettle,” Jackie mutters, chucking the kettle into the sink. It steams quietly, and Jackie takes a deep breath as spilled water drips down her lower cabinets. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Claire. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” Claire says firmly.
Jackie throws a tea towel onto the counter, soaking up the scalding water. “You don’t know how untrue that is.”
The towel darkens slowly. Jackie throws it into the sink along with the kettle, and after a moment of consideration, she opens a drawer to pull out a pack of Marlboro Lights.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Jackie says, rifling in another drawer to produce her lighter. “I need to settle my nerves. It’s either this, or make a martini at nine in the morning.”
Claire blinks. Jackie is already pulling out a cigarette. “You smoke?”
“Used to. I quit two years ago.”
Jackie doesn’t wait for an affirmative. She disappears towards the living room, and by the time Claire has followed Jackie is draped over the couch taking her first deep drag.
Claire sits gingerly on the edge of a cushion.
Jackie’s gaze flickers towards her, and then back to her cigarette.
“You seem unsettled,” Claire says quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”
Jackie sighs. It comes with a cloud of smoke. “No, darling. You haven’t done anything,” Jackie says. The pet-name makes Claire feel a little better. “I’m just at the end of a very trying week.”
“What happened?”
